


to nurture is to fuel

by winecup



Category: Fire Emblem: Seisen no Keifu | Fire Emblem: Genealogy of the Holy War
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Friendship, Gen, Pre-Canon, Questionable Friendship, Suzuki novel elements, questionable allies, the mark of Fjalar takes its time to show up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-22
Updated: 2020-12-22
Packaged: 2021-03-09 21:41:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,073
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27943184
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/winecup/pseuds/winecup
Summary: Arvis didn't have a knack for gardening like his mother, having little patience for the secrets saplings offered. People were different, more expressive.
Relationships: Arvis & Azelle (Fire Emblem)
Kudos: 10





	to nurture is to fuel

**Author's Note:**

> written for the Heir to the Holy Flame zine

When his father passed away it was already assumed that the younger brother of the late duke would become the next head. The brothers had been somewhat close sharing similar vices and connections. Most importantly he was not a seven year old child.

"Lord Dalton, if you tarry any more your family might think you sentimental." It was a shrill voice that spilled from the open parlor room. The same common faces and perfumes still came and went through these halls even after the funeral.

"Sentimental? For that woman Victor tied himself to? Even if I fancied her, that's completely out of the question."

It was odd to hear the open disrespect towards his father. Arvis remembered this particular woman as the one with many faces, all of which seemed to be fond of his father, before. For his part, Arvis couldn't find even one shred of warmth towards that man and in turn a bit of relief now that he was gone. But then something coiled in his stomach when that same ire directed to his mother.

He nearly forgot himself, managing to stop from stomping his feet towards the loud giggles that brought him back. Arvis leaned towards the wall connecting to the double doors and shuffled carefully back to place.

"You jape. The son I meant, the one who actually shows his face."

"You _are_ funny!"

His face burned at his mention but what his current actions said of him mattered little at this new revelation. Did mother not leave her room at all? He never noticed. Arvis always went to her when he wanted to see her. It was the same back then as it was now. He simply did not question it before. He would change that.

His father was lord, Arvis was his first born son. His reach was not so great at present that he could take the power he needed himself. He needed an ally.

Lord Dalton announced he would hold a formal meeting to "get it over with" but in the days before he could be finalized, the imperial prince Kurth announced his backing of the dukedom to lord Arvis. The deafening giggles that had haunted the parlor whittled to nothing. While Dalton fumed, he did not lash out to the servants like his brother had. Was that their kinder difference or was it because the decision came from the highest authority in the land?

Though it was Arvis who pled for Kurth's aid, the truth was he hated-- that his own words carried little weight. It coiled tighter. He had to be more than what he was.

* * *

It was shortly after Cigyun's handmaid gave light to a son that Arvis ordered the exile of the former lord’s mistresses and their children so that his mother could move freely within the castle. Mostly she still stayed in her room, which she had begun to share with her maid. But there was once he spotted her in the inner garden with her shoes tossed to the side and up to her elbows in dirt. He almost called out to her, worried she had fallen or worse, gone mad. Then she waved at him with all smiles bathed by sunlight and suddenly it didn't matter where she was stained.

Not everyone was happy with the new arrangements. There was simply no need for an overabundance of servants with fewer people living in the castle. Running a household, the head butler explained, ideally involved keeping only an elite, the discreet, and the promising. Arvis didn't have a knack for gardening like his mother, having little patience for the secrets saplings offered. People were different, more expressive. Far easier to move with legs than roots in the ground.

Evidently there existed people who also grew roots. There was one mistress who did not leave so quietly as the rest. Arvis recognized her as the one with long nails whom the maids avoided and even Dalton kept his distance. Among the few that bore light for his father, she had two. She claimed her eldest had the mark of Fjalar on the back of her hand. While there were many desperate to stay in the household, none dared make a bold claim as her. There was a hefty charge for a crusader's impersonation. Then again, the lord of Velthomer was just a child.

"The brand on her hand rubbed right off so I ordered it to be removed, as is demanded." Prince Kurth had arrived late with a dying sun following behind him. Arvis wore a frown when he saw him and reported what transpired as succinctly as he could.

"The mother was allowed to go free, even though she lied to begin with?"

"I didn't want to hear another one cry." He rubbed his head. "They are so very loud."

The prince looked into the gardens as if there were answers to be found there. Under the threat of disfigurement and how simple it was to confirm the truth, it was rare for such blatant falsehood to occur. It meant they looked down on the young lord. But before it had even reached Kurth's ears, Arvis had already taken care of the incident so thoroughly it had been difficult to get any details. Apparently the mistress made herself scarce soon after. What was appropriate to say to a child sovereign? That his conduct was right?

Arvis covered his mouth with his hand and tried his best not to let the yawn escape. The tension in Kurth's shoulders lessened. This was his act as a duke, Kurth would not overstep his bounds, and so the prince said nothing else about the matter. He moved on to something he had been wanting to ask from the start.

"Is Lady Cigyun doing well?"

"Mother spends her time doting on the baby." He turns his head towards a window two floors above with the soft glow of life beyond it.

"Does the child have a name?"

"Not yet."

On his next visit, Kurth did not ask about Cigyun or any other occasion again. In the years that followed, Arvis wished prince Kurth would ask about his mother just to try and remember what her face looked like. He learned to be content with the silence, else his displeasure for the man take form.

* * *

Legitimate Velthomer or not, not a soul brought up the subject of Fjalar’s brand since. Curious still were the accidents clipping away at the bloodline but Arvis paid them no heed. None of that mattered while he balanced running a house and taking on commanding the Roten Ritter. When he had time to spare, educating his baby brother as well. The child often tested his patience but Arvis believes he found what his mother found so appealing tending to her plants. Cigyun's maid--friend- Azelle's mother was still far better at rearing her son than Arvis. She spent the most time with him, of course she hushed his cries more easily. Azelle struggled against his hold once again so Arvis set him down and let him tire himself out. Instead he raised his hands and seemed to want to go back up. Azelle's mother laughed as she wondered aloud if her boy would end up seeing Arvis as his father rather than his brother.  
"Is that a problem?" He asked genuinely but in between his duties he still carried the inflection of a ruler. His question went unanswered and forgotten when Azelle threw up on his dress shirt from being picked up too quickly.

The murmurs catch his ears sometimes that even though he is fifteen, at the age when squire became soldier, still no marking appeared on his skin. But they were only hushed voices. With his loudmouth uncle's ill fate, the rest of the family, what was left of them, fell in line. Even if he did not carry Valflame yet, he was still the direct descendant of Fjalar and was allowed to formally enroll to Belhalla's academy. His command at home translated well in Grannvale’s capital. So well that he earned both envy and ire of his instructors. In an attempt to embarrass him he was intentionally pitted against the rising stars that had enrolled that same year. First against Duke Vylon's boy in a test of sword skill. He was a few years younger but already carried Baldr's brand and so was allowed early entry to the academy. Yet ultimately still a child the way Arvis threw him aside on his counter blow. He expected more of a challenge from a so-called crusader. Were the holy weapons themselves all there was to it, then? Then he faced a foreign prince from Agustria.

This one was different. Arvis searched his memory from the opening ceremony and recalled he was King Imca's pride. Soundly defeated as Arvis was, Eldigan allowed him to yield first. He learned later that he had only just received his brand at the beginning of the season. Even if it hadn't appeared, his lot had been to enroll and secure an engagement to continue the Hezul line.

"But I’m glad I was chosen." He spoke in a low tone long after curfew and Arvis was close enough that he felt the reverberation from his voice. "I can't imagine this kind of burden for Lachesis."

* * *

"You’re leaving?"

"An urgent matter. It doesn't concern you."

"It doesn't. But I've never seen you like this before. That concerns me."

He didn’t have it in him to argue back. Azelle was not yet ten when Arvis cut his own education short to return home. What he could do for a grieving child was beyond him, but.

Eldigan knew how guarded Arvis was. He saw others as useful or not useful, never confidants. Even if he considered him a friend, it was surely only felt on his part. He stepped into his path.

"If you ever find yourself in trouble, know that I’ll come to your aid. Regardless of what it is." He said it so earnestly that it struck a nerve.

Really.

He was lord of his own kingdom in another country, he knew better than to say reckless, idealistic drivel. Arvis could not hold back the venom he felt from the depths of his stomach.

"Stick your neck out at your own peril, I will not do the same!"

"I am aware."

* * *

Arvis returned within two days of receiving the news that his mother- Azelle's mother- died. He felt as though drenched in ice water to learn it was another 'accident'.

Azelle hid away in his mother’s room- not the one that overlooked the inner garden- but continued to receive his tutoring and meals otherwise just the same. Considerate even in his grief. The image mirrored his own on the day he found his mother's favorite flora wilting. He swallows an acrid taste in his mouth.

"Did you hurt yourself?" There was a bruise on his cheek, small and reddish. It was light enough that it could have been from resting his hand there too long, but it didn't recede like one should.

"…'s been like that." His voice is small. So unsure how to address his lord brother.

Arvis takes in the sight of it a few seconds longer.

He holds his brother and it begins to feel natural unlike the many times he's tried before. Maybe being away from home for a time was a good thing. Azelle tries not to cry, he's done such a good job the past couple of days, but his mucus buildup stuffs his nose and he’s forced to breathe through his mouth between sobs. The runoff of snot rubs on his waistcoat, and when Arvis wipes his face, all over his hands. But there’s no disgust on his face.

The mark on Azelle's cheek becomes more pronounced in the following days and once Arvis figures it out he immediately sends word to Belhalla- specifically to Prince Kurth rather than King Azmur.

The Salamander chose Azelle. This changed things. Arvis couldn't protect him as well as he would have liked. Thoughts of those laid to rest in Velthomer's mausoleum overwhelmed his mind. If he burned for carrying the blood of Maera like Manfloy said… so be it. He had just one other he could call his ally. Though Arvis treated him horribly towards the end, his words rang with hope and it made all the difference in the moment.


End file.
